


Old Grudges

by Bambi_Merwyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambi_Merwyn/pseuds/Bambi_Merwyn
Summary: On May 3rd 1998, one Mr Draco Malfoy turns himself into the Ministry of Magic, much to the collective surprise of the Order of the Phoenix. Awaiting trial and needing to be stowed away from the loose Death Eaters who regard him as a defected traitor, Malfoy has no choice but to let the Order stash him in secret at 12 Grimmauld Place until the school terms resumes for his 8th year. He is adamant that he would have been "perfectly fucking fine" keeping to himself and sulking in his room if it hadn't been for one particular witch and her constant need to interfere in his life. All would be easy and right in his world if it did not include Hermione sodding Granger.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Ron Weasley/Other(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	1. A Pyrrhic Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! I welcome you to the first chapter of my debut Dramione fic. I am yet to decide upon an updating schedule, so you'll have to bare with me until a time where I manage to get myself more organised. As a small disclaimer, at only 1300 words, this will be the shortest chapter of the story. Despite that small titbit, please enjoy!

There's a corpse on the floor in the middle of the Great Hall on that second morning in May. It is quite clear however, that there is more than one dead body scattered around the castle. Most were Human forms that littered the flagstone floor from the door to the dais, blanketed by white bedsheets stripped from the students’ dorm rooms. Voldemort’s was the only corpse left uncovered. The Dark Lord, once universally feared by those who were too afraid to speak his name, had been struck down by a nearsighted, self-righteous teenager.

Harry stood looming over him; two wands clutched tightly in his shaking hands. Both had belonged formerly to the young Draco Malfoy. The first was made from Hawthorn wood, relatively springy, characterised by a unicorn hair at its inner core. The other was the famed elder wand - whose true master had never been the Dark Lord at all. There wasn’t a moment of doubt as to what Harry should do with the latter. Merlin willing, he would be able to mend his own broken wand before returning the fabled Hallow back to its rightful place in Dumbledore’s tomb on the shores of the Black Lake.

The Great Hall would have otherwise been silent if it had not been for the onslaught of tears and continual yelps of pain that sounded out from victims suffering injuries with varying degrees of severity. All those who could manage to stand on their own had quietened in disbelief that this battle was over. The tyrant that had terrorised the Wizarding world for decades was dead. He no longer had the Minister of Magic under the Imperius curse, no longer had control over the Ministry itself or the Daily Prophet for that matter, and no longer had Death Eaters employed as teachers at Hogwarts.

This war had been fought by generations of Wizards and Witches, and the final battle had drawn on through the night. There were casualties on both sides, and any Death Eaters who survived had enough sense to disapparate while the wards at the school were still down. Their Dark Lord was dead, they had no leader to guide them, and their loss in the Battle of Hogwarts had significantly weakened their numbers. With sharp _snaps_ they disapparated, leaving behind nothing but billowing plumes of black smoke, a destroyed castle, and a slew of bodies in their wake.

Ginevra Weasley stepped forward from her Mother's side and clasped hands with Harry as she came to meet him. Ginny, the first daughter born into the Weasley family in over a century, the seventh child of a seventh child, faced the defeated Dark Lord who had possessed her as a 1st year. He was the very reason she still had nightmares in her sleep, waking up some nights disoriented in the bathroom. She lowered her wand to point at his body and muttered _incendio_ , preferring to watch his flesh slowly reduce to ash rather than blasting him apart with a Reductor Curse. A stream of fire charred and incinerated the corpse of the devil who no one wished to bury with their own dead.

Luna Lovegood was sporting the same old perpetually dazed look on her face as usual, but for a vastly different reason on this occasion. There was a smattering of blood under her nose and tears in her eyes as she knelt down beside one of the covered victims. Her father was dead, and she found herself once again mourning the loss of a parent who had died before her eyes.

Neville stood covered in snake's blood, eyes wide and frantically searching for his friends in the throng that had clustered into the room. He could see Ginny and Harry, standing together and holding hands as they burned a body. Ron and Hermione were shoulder to shoulder in a huddle with the other Weasley redheads. The family grouped around a twin who had lost both consciousness and a large amount of blood, but not yet his life. George was shouting for Pomfrey and began begging the closest Mediwitch healer who had arrived on the scene to Apparate his twin to St Mungo's immediately.

Across the room, Percy Weasley held the Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, in a full-body bind curse. "I do regret the need for such measures, Sir... but it is only until the Auror’s arrive to take you in for your formal investigation."

No matter the finding of an Imperius curse or otherwise, Thicknesse would be expected to step down from his post and would likely resign from the Ministry entirely. Percy nudged the frozen Minister to the side, choosing to leave him while navigating a path towards the rest of his family who he, regrettably, had chosen to disown only recently. Pius promptly proceeded to topple over onto the floor with a resounding thud.

As a departing note, Percy shot over his shoulder "I do hope you'll accept this as my formal resignation, Minister."

It wasn’t until Malfoy's name was shrieked out across the room that the Golden Trio’s attention was drawn away from the injured and grieving who stood surrounding them. The Blond’s mother spared no time in pushing past her husband and rushing to her son, hugging him desperately close to her in a fit of relief. In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, it appeared that Lucius Malfoy was similarly glad to see his only son alive and mostly unharmed.

Malfoy's unusually pale skin was now covered in soot and flaking blood. Pieces of rubble were strewn through his hair and his right arm was braced tenderly across his chest - with what was sure to be multiple fractures in his wrist. His left side now sported a shallow puncture wound from either a rogue curse or flying debris - he wasn't sure - but the imperceptible wound was slowly dampening his black suit. Narcissa was doing her utmost to rub the dirt from his face but stopped the moment he winced when her hand came in contact with a nasty gash on his cheek. Though she had not intended for it to happen, she had managed to smear blood across one side of his face.

It was clear that she was longing for her wand at that moment, wanting to _episkey_ away her son’s gashes and split lip or _scourgify_ the grime from his person. Between the three of them, there wasn’t a single wand in their possession. So, there they stood, a bunch of wandless Malfoys’ huddled tightly in a corner together, each in turn fussy over one another as any normal family would do after having miraculously survived such an event.

Though seemingly caught up in their own world, it was only moments after they realised that they had drawn attention to themselves that they saw fit to portkey hurriedly away from the scene. It was to be expected, after all, they couldn’t have stayed at Hogwarts even if they had wanted to. To disapparate without a wand was a feat too large for a group of people so tired but an emergency portkey ensured their escape. The Aurors were carting away the injured to St Mungo’s but it wouldn’t have been long before they started to search the castle for any enemies that remained there; whether they had been too stupid to leave, or simply unable to.

If there was one thing the Malfoy’s weren’t - it was stupid. The Death Eaters regarded the Malfoy family as wholly defected from their cause, now knowing that Narcissa had lied about Harry Potter’s ‘death’, on the slim chance that Draco may be alive somewhere in the castle. Lucius and Narcissa having failed to fight in the battle had painted a large target on their backs, with both sides more than willing to throw any number of curses their way. Any living supporters of Voldemort who fled to safety would consider all three of them to be traitors, and with more Aurors on the way and members of the Order of the Phoenix armed within firing distance, the Malfoys would find no allies here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: We'll be seeing a lot of Draco Malfoy hunkered down in a holding cell at the ministry after having turned himself in. He asks to see one person before he'll answer any questions (and it's not who you think!)


	2. Repercussions

**May 3 rd, 1998**

**12:35pm**

**Ministry of Magic, Aurors Department**

There was a tense silence in the small interrogation room, with neither occupant wishing to be the first to speak. Draco Malfoy stubbornly kept his usually loud mouth shut, refusing to relinquish the upper hand to his visitor even though he had been the one to summon her here.

It wasn’t that he needed _her_ to drop by and speak with him. Though if he was being perfectly honest, he couldn’t think of anyone else that he thought would actually come if he had asked them to.

Mulling it over, he conceded that maybe Pansy would have. She was after all, one of his oldest and most loyal friends - always there in the infirmary with sweets in her bookbag whenever he suffered an injury at the hands of Gryffindor’s precious Golden Trio or after he had taken a nasty dive off his broom.

It was no secret that from the moment she was born her parents wished to have her married off to the sole Malfoy heir, and it wasn’t as though his Father was largely at odds with the idea. It was to be a mutually beneficial pairing Lucius had said. Pansy was a well-mannered girl, Pansy was an accomplished witch, Pansy had good blood.

After some not so thinly veiled encouragement from his Father, Draco had attempted to court his fellow Slytherin for a number of weeks in their 3rd year. However, despite the new label on their relationship, no new feelings had sprung from the futile exercise. It was the same as it had always been and always would be between them, they were each other’s best friend.

Lucius was exceptionally displeased that Draco would willingly squander the opportunity for such an advantageous match. Narcissa was not of the same mind. She’d always liked Pansy, ever since they were toddlers who riffled through cabinets with handles low enough for them to reach. According to his Mother, Pansy was good for him - whether they ever be romantically linked or not.

The next in line on Lucius’ list of appropriate families was the Greengrasses, who had two daughters of similar age to his son. Daphne wouldn’t spare a second thought before killing Draco should he ever attempt to make a move on her little sister, and Daphne herself claims that after so many years at school with the boy she ‘knows Draco too well to ever marry him’.

Shifting his thoughts to his other old friends from school, Blaise Zabini would have been there for him. Theo probably would have come too, if that tosser had half a mind to see him bound like a criminal in the Auror’s department. He liked Nott really, he did, but as one of his best mates, Theo would never have let him live it down.

The plain truth of the matter was that Draco hadn’t sent an owl to any of his friends because he simply didn’t want to see them, because he didn’t want them to see him. He suspected that they would be ashamed of him, nearly as much as he was of himself.

It was bad enough that when he was finally given permission from the Head Auror of the DMLE to be visited by one person while in holding that, of all the people in the world, he’d requested to see Molly Weasley. He could practically picture her oafish son asking his mummy dearest where she was heading out to today. He imagined that the Weasel would have turned a shade as red as his hair in an imminent fit of rage when she told him of her plans to visit Draco.

Though Draco didn’t actually remember having ever been formally introduced to Molly Weasley, or even having spoken to her for that matter, he considered what he knew of her and deduced that she was likely an honest woman and more notably, a member of the Order he initially fought so hard against.

Having deigned to be here in his presence, she stood across the room from him with a blank expression plastered on her face, one which was steadily beginning to irritate him. He couldn’t guess at what she was thinking, and it was frustrating him to no avail. Did she come here to pity him? Had her curiosity to see what he wanted won out in the end?

At one point he half considered an attempt to use Legilimency against her. He may be a skilled Occlumens, but Legilimency was not a practice he was endowed with a natural affinity for. So, knowing this that it would do nothing for him but cause more grief - he sat in silence and waited for something else to happen.

The pair were separated by a rectangular steel table to which the palms of his hands were tightly affixed by a strong binding charm. If he had to guess, it had been a number of minutes since she had arrived here, having never spoken a word since entering the room, and he was yet to look her in the eyes.

It had come as something of a surprise to the Ministry when Draco Malfoy of all people, had come striding through one of their floo connections that morning, no less than a day after the Battle of Hogwarts. The boy was unarmed and seemingly unfazed as a team of Aurors promptly stunned him and took him in for questioning.

Only a few hours later, while the majority of her family and friends were clustered around in the Burrow (save for Fred and Tonks who were at St Mungo’s currently unconscious, but in a stable enough condition that there wasn’t any immediate need to worry; and for Remus and Sirius who were presently there to mind them) a grey owl perched on the kitchen window and deposited a parchment letter onto the countertop.

Hermione being the first to notice the owl, made the very astute observation that the red wax holding the envelop closed fast was imprinted with a seal from the Ministry. Upon further investigation on her part, she clarified that it hadn’t been just any insignia to mark the letter but had been stamped by the Minister of Magic himself.

Pius Thicknesse had indeed stepped down from his post as Minister just hours after his apprehension at Hogwarts. As the most suitable replacement to preside over the Ministry in an interim capacity, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been sworn in as acting Minister that evening, until such a time where a formal election would be able to be conducted.

Addressed to Molly, Hermione handed the correspondence over to her. The matriarch took her time reading and bobbing her head along as her eyes skimmed the page. She was purposefully taking her time much to the annoyance of Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Shacklebolt’s asking if I would come into the Ministry today, Dear.” She chimed at last to her husband who had just walked through the door. “Draco Malfoy is wanting to speak with me.”

“Wait a minute, Malfoy’s at the Ministry? Why on Earth would he –” Ron’s inquiry was promptly interrupted as Arthur Weasley cut him off.

“It appears the boy turned himself in this morning.” His father chuckled lightly as he continued to read over his wife’s shoulder. “He waltzed right up to the Auror’s office according to Shacklebolt. Caused quite a fuss.”

“He has a tendency to do that.” Hermione quipped as she rolled her eyes.

It was only a matter of seconds before Harry and Ron in a synchronised chorus began bombarding Molly as to whether she would be going and why doing so would certainly be a very very bad idea.

She shushed them, proclaiming that if Shacklebolt as acting Minister needed her there then she would go. She had made up her mind and there was nothing any occupant of her household could do or say to persuade her otherwise.

And so, here she was, deciding finally that the time had come to question the blond boy sitting before her with his legs crossed at the ankles and his hair falling in his face. With her curiosity surrounding the reason for her summons greatly influencing her actions, Molly addressed him cordially.

“Hello, Draco.” There was a pregnant pause, and when he failed to respond she pressed on. “You asked for me?”

“I did.” He still couldn’t bring himself to look up at her just yet.

“Do you care to tell me why?”

He froze, just about as much as any man could when they were already bound tightly, movement restricted by an invisible force of magic.

If he chose to, he could simply tell her right now that he was sorry, for allowing his father to convince him to get marked, for the astronomy tower, for having any part in this stupid war that he had been dragged into by the ideologies of his elders.

He certainly felt stupid for being a spoilt kid who didn’t know how lucky he had it until a mass murderer came knocking on the door of his parents’ house and began asking him to do horrible things.

Yet, it wasn’t just his father that he got to blame. Draco had once been proud of the opportunity the Death Eaters afforded him to _prove_ himself. If only he had listened to his mother, following her example in remaining unmarked but being just helpful enough to the Dark Lord to avoid any chances of getting yourself killed.

There was no other way of putting it, he was angry he had gotten involved in the first place – furious at himself and his father and Voldemort above all others. Draco Malfoy was more than willing to spill the Berties Botts about where the remaining Death Eaters were residing.

After all, everyone already considered him a turncoat anyway. If he could have his way then every last one of them would be facing a one-way trip to Azkaban, his father included.

Draco would have thought that after the failure of the first war and the downward spiral it consequently threw the Malfoys into, that his father would have learnt his lesson. Right now, Draco certainly had. So long as he should live, he would never again consort with the likes of another dark wizard. Though he knew it to be a futile and pointless endeavour now, Draco resented his father.

It hadn’t even taken a full day for him to decide (with some gentle persuasion from his mother) that he was done with running and would turn himself in to the Ministry, agreeing to face trial for his limited involvement. He would strive to bring the rest of the Death Eaters down.

As a not wholly unrelated issue, Draco did not want to find himself winding up in prison with the rest of Voldemort’s sorry band of followers. He needed help. That was the crux of it. It didn’t matter who it came from ultimately, but the only lawyer he knew was a less than reputable representative of his fathers and right now his father was the last person he wanted on his mind.

There was no sugar coating it, Draco was royally screwed. His crazy aunt may be dead, but her husband wasn’t, Dolohov wasn’t, the Carrow twins certainly weren’t. They would be out for his head unless he found a way to see them permanently locked up. His Mother was a target too and he simply would not be able to live with himself if any harm came to her because of his stupid involvement with Voldemort.

That was where Molly Weasley came in. He was praying to whatever higher power would listen to him that she would agree to find him a suitable representative to plead his case to the Wizengamot once it was re-established. He did not take Mrs Weasley as a woman who would deny anybody their right to a fair trial.

Surely, this wouldn’t be asking too much of her. All she would need to do would be to pick a reputable name from any number of advertisements in the Daily Prophet, pass it on to him and be on her way. He’d tell the Aurors what they needed to know and would likely face a short-lived stint in holding (or in Azkaban if the universe truly saw fit to punish him) until he was tried.

His Mother was planning to drop by the Ministry as well, when it suited her, to similarly tell them what they wanted to hear. He had no doubt that she would be able to return home on bail until her trial, and he predicted that as she had no more involvement with the Dark Lord than being unfortunately related to three Death Eaters, she would be free to go.

“You look well.” Molly commented, either failing to note the remaining blood and bruises that spoiled his skin, or simply choosing to ignore them.

“I look alive.”

He would be forever grateful to whatever deities exist that his sleeves were rolled down so she couldn’t see his dark mark. The black ink marring his left arm was a permanent reminder of his mistakes. He knew deep down that for his actions, he certainly didn’t deserve much, but he hoped that others would believe him when he told them that he doesn’t deserve to rot away in Azkaban for the rest of his sorry life.

“I suppose that’s all anyone can really ask for themselves these days.” Out of his peripheral vision he saw the beginning of a smile on her face and finally snapped his eyes up, away from the table to look at her as she spoke. “I want you to know that turning yourself in was the right thing to do. You would have ended up in a whole other world of trouble if you had run from the ministry.”

She was right, but he did not confess to knowing it.

“You killed my aunt Bellatrix Lestrange yesterday.”

Molly took a deep breath, suspecting that maybe this tangent of conversation could be the reason the young Malfoy had summoned her here. “Yes. I recall. But you should know that she was trying to kill _my_ Ginny.”

He shook his head. She had misunderstood him. “I wanted to thank you for that.”

It was only a whisper, but she heard it clear as day. If there was anyone that he was glad was dead, it was her. She’d been cruel to him and worse to his Mother, and there was no telling what small thing would set her off next. Bellatrix had threatened to slit her sister’s throat if she so much as dared to get in the way of the Dark Lord.

“I don’t mean to waste your time Mrs Weasley, I’m sure you’re a very busy woman. I only wonder if you might know of any good lawyers you could recommend. It seems that it may be a while before the Ministry manages to pull itself together, but it won’t be long until they’ll want to see me tried.”

She leant on the table and to his surprise spoke to him in what was undoubtably a very mothering voice. If there had been a second chair for her to sit on, he assumed she would have pulled it up beside him and sat down.

“Draco, Harry has always said that he thought you were marked.” When he made no move to shout at her or protest, she continued.

“How old were you when it happened?”

At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. She had caught him off guard and she expected he would likely be defensive as a result.

“Sixteen. They did it between fifth and sixth year.”

**************

**1:10pm**

**Ministry of Magic, Minister’s Office**

“I will not be repeating myself, Kingsley. You will not be keeping that boy in the Ministry. It’s not safe! You know just as well as I do that hardly any Death Eaters were actually taken into custody yesterday, and any one of them could come in here and try to finish him off.”

“Molly it’s not as though you can just take him home with you when you leave! His Mother’s here in holding as well and as they were both in Voldemort’s permanent employ, both will stay here under lock and key until they can have their trials.”

Molly was not pleased in the least, and she had no qualms in letting Shacklebolt know how she felt about the matter. She reminded him that Sirius once had a foolish younger brother in Slytherin who similarly got mixed up with the Death Eaters and was marked before he knew of the true atrocities Voldemort would commit. But unlike Regulus, Draco’s Father had an active role in pushing him to enlist.

“He’s not dangerous, he hasn’t killed anybody! Please, just let the Order keep him safe and not the Ministry.”

She pressed that Dumbledore had known of Draco’s recruitment as another underage Wizard Voldemort had saw fit to brand; but rather than publicising this fact or turning him in, Dumbledore had chosen to try and persuade the boy to realise his mistake and defect.

Dumbledore had once offered Draco the protection of the Order, and she was once again trying to broker the same deal.

She insisted she was not asking Kingsley for the boy to be pardoned. He’d done what he had done, and it was the responsibility of the Wizengamot to decide his fate. Whether his Father had brainwashed him with delusions of a ‘better world’, whether Voldemort had threatened to kill his Mother if he didn’t comply - he could argue his innocence but only if he was still alive to do so.

“He’s marked, Molly. We checked his arm when we brought him in.”

If she had to sit here and yell for hours she most certainly would. There had never been another moment before where Molly had been so glad that its wasn’t one of her sons that had found himself on the wrong side of the war. Draco Malfoy was just a stupid boy who had no one he could trust right now.

“I’ll be damned if I let him sit in a holding cell, Kingsley. He’ll help us apprehend what’s left of Voldemort’s followers and the Order will keep him from harms way. If you allow him to help us, then he’ll be that much better off facing the Wizengamot.”

For a moment Kingsley pondered her proposition. Since the Death Eaters had literally vanished into thin air, there was no telling where they could be hiding or what it was that they were getting up to. The Malfoy kid would know.

Kingsley suspected that was why he had turned himself in. The Ministry was yet to hear anything from the boy - whose only request upon his arrival was that he spoke with Mrs Weasley before the Aurors. Draco was in a position to help them.

Begrudgingly, Kingsley knew she was right. With Snape dead, the Order and the Ministry no longer had a source of information that would be helpful in their plight to imprison the Death Eaters still at large. So, though he hated to admit it, the boy’s willingness to help was a rare opportunity that must be acted upon.

He nodded, signalling his consent and began filtering through papers on his desk to find a transfer form. He would allow the Malfoy boy to be put into Molly’s care, effectively placing him in the custody of the Order.

“Give me a couple of days to make the arrangements, Molly.”

“You have your Aurors ask their questions and I have no doubt that the boy will comply. If anything, his being here is a testament to that. Just leave it to me to figure out where we can keep him safe in the meantime.”

**************

**7:30pm**

**The Weasley Family Burrow**

Upon her return from the Ministry, Molly called for an emergency family meeting and as usual, this invitation extended to both Harry and Hermione who were practically living with the Weasleys for the foreseeable future.

“You have to be raving mad!” Ron bellowed.

It was safe to say that her family largely did not share her sentiments regarding the Malfoy boy.

“So, what if he wasn’t as murderous as he could have been? He’s still a Death Eater, Mum!”

Arthur followed his normal strategy in supporting his wife no matter her decision, choosing to defer to her so as to avoid conflict in his marriage. Percy voiced his general disdain for the Malfoy family as a whole. Ginny considered Malfoy to be the biggest jerk she’d had the misfortune of meeting in her entire life and insisted that if George were here - and not visiting Fred at St Mungo’s - he similarly would have many grievances with the Blond.

Harry and Hermione were oddly quiet during this family debate - not wishing to intrude in such squabbling, as neither had much experience with arguments taking place in large families.

When Ginny finally coaxed Harry into sharing his thoughts, he harped on in a similar tangent to Molly - about how Narcissa had saved his life and was ultimately the reason they had won the war in the first place and how Draco had effectively spared all three of them by failing to positively identify the trio at the manor.

Hermione put a hand to her scarred forearm, physically shivering at the mention of the Malfoy ancestral home and in doing so, drew all eyes to her.

And really what was there for her to say that hadn’t been said already? That Malfoy was a pompous dickhead who had to pay his dues for being a prejudiced arse to Muggleborns and Halfbloods alike? That’s a fact.

But he didn’t deserve to stay in holding or Azkaban until his trial, did he? He hadn’t actually murdered anybody. It was always going to be Snape who killed Dumbledore and thankfully no one was seriously harmed when he had let the Death Eaters into the castle that night.

She finally settled on saying “I just think it’s strange that he wants to help us. Maybe he actually feels guilty for what he’s done.”

“No, what’s strange is that Mum would never let Charlie bring home any creature she claimed was too _dangerous_ or too exotic, but now she wants to bring home the ferret without even asking?”

“Ron, we are not talking about some animal here!”

“Now that’s debatable.”

Molly was fuming. She’d just about had enough of her youngest son. If it hadn’t been for Sirius arriving through the fireplace at that very moment, she would have done more than threaten to hex the boy for talking back at her.

**************

**8:17pm**

**The Weasley Family Burrow**

Once Sirius had left St Mungo’s at the conclusion of their visiting hours and made his way to the Burrow, he was promptly bombarded by Molly who hurried to share her plan with him that would supposedly save the young Malfoy boy.

So perhaps ‘save’ wasn’t the right word for it. She only meant to keep him alive until he could prove himself a better person than what everyone else had presumed him to be; but it was something in her general sentiments to help the Slytherin that struck a chord with Sirius.

No one except a house elf had been there to try and help his brother when Regulus had been brainwashed and branded. Now Molly was here asking him to aid her in finding a safe place for Draco while he acted as the Ministry’s knowledgeable Death Eater informant.

When Sirius ran away from home and was thereafter disowned by the house of Black, Narcissa had chosen to never speak to him again. Despite his cousin’s disregard, Sirius himself held no ill will to her son, other than knowing the boy to have been unkind to Harry and his friends at school.

The only reason for Sirius’ hesitation to help Molly was that he knew the perfect place for the Order to hide Draco. That perfect place was in fact 12 Grimmauld Place in muggle London, the same place he had promised that Harry could live with him at once Sirius was acquitted for Pettigrew’s crimes.

If Sirius sought to help Molly, then the most logical plan would be for Draco to live with him and Harry - though his Godson would first need to consent to this development. With Hermione’s parents being lost on another continent without any recollection of their daughter she was also in need of a home, so it is likely that she would wish to stay in London with them also.

It therefore follows that if Harry and Hermione found themselves residing at Grimmauld Place, then there exists a natural expectation that the two youngest Weasley siblings would wish to move in with them as well. If Sirius volunteered himself and his house for this duty Molly would have a field day reminding him that taking in four teenagers was no small task.

Sirius as a stubborn man, was not one to back down in the face of adversity, even if it was as daunting as minding a bunch of adolescents. He had no reservations about homing the quartet, or Hogwarts’ resident troublemaker Malfoy. With his mind made up he agreed to help Molly because Draco was, for all intents and purposes, still his family, and reminded him oddly of the little brother he had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Draco Malfoy is finally moved into 12 Grimmauld Place as a less than pleasant house guest for our beloved Gryffindor Quartet


	3. Unwelcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not have a beta reader, so any errors or inconsistencies that may exist in this or subsequent chapters are my own fault. I promise that I will be as prompt as I can in rectifying any issues, but without further ado, this is your next chapter :)

**Unwelcome**

_Adjective_

(of a guest or new arrival) not gladly received: not wanted

**4th May 1998**

**12 Grimmauld Place, Muggle London**

**10:15pm**

It had been three days since the Battle of Hogwarts had commenced, and the cold dread of realisation was finally beginning to sink in, firmly taking root in the pits of their stomachs as the adrenaline continually wore off. Their relatives, their teachers, and classmates whom they had known for seven years had died. People were dead for helping them fight.

Colin Creevy and Lavender Brown's bodies were ones that the Aurors had apologetically asked the trio to identify before they would be taken and shown to their parents for confirmation and subsequent burial. Ron had burst into tears at the sight of his first girlfriend lying dead, covered in blood, her throat torn out from Greyback's horrific mutilation.

Hermione had to hold him, as still as she could, to calm him down before he found himself suffering a panic attack. He wouldn't look away from the mangled corpse, no matter her pleading and urging that he look at her instead. She resigned herself to sitting on the floor with him, whispering soothing words into his ear that she knew he wouldn't be listening to. Her efforts to help did little in the way of calming his irregular breathing or stilling her shaking hands.

Hermione had never much liked Lavender, but although she detested her dormmate's incessant gossiping, Hermione had never imagined a world where Ron's old girlfriend would be lying dead at her feet. Lavender had only just celebrated her 17th Birthday before Hermione had left with the boys to hunt the Horcruxes. She wouldn't have even been considered a legal adult yet in most parts of the muggle world.

Harry had disappeared shortly after, leaving Hermione to pick up the pieces. He was sorry for doing it to her, for leaving Ron, but he needed to escape the confines of the Great Hall. Harry stowed himself away in an old storage closest with a thick wooden door and just sobbed his eyes dry. He was hoping beyond hope that nobody would find or hear him.

He took his time, privately mourning the loss of a boy who had been younger than him, whose belief in Harry had been unwavering, and whose faith in Harry had ultimately gotten him killed.

Before moving in with Sirius, the Gryffindor quartet had been sheltering at the Burrow. Every member of the household was exhausted from their fitful sleep on that first night, and though Molly had subjected them all too intense bouts of _scourgify_ in the wake of the battle, Ron and Harry's faces had remained tear-stained.

Ron and Ginny had been anxiously waiting to hear of news from St Mungo's about Fred's condition, as the number of visitors per patient had been tightly restricted. George remained vigilant at his twin's bedside. All the while, the trained Healers did their best to operate as efficiently as they could in the overcrowded hospital that was greatly exceeding what should have been its maximum capacity.

When an owl arrived for Ginny that first afternoon, she was quietly disappointed to discover that it was sent to her by Neville Longbottom and was not the correspondence she had been expecting from George. As Neville rarely mailed the Weasley's when they were at the Burrow, she hastened to read the contents of the letter - fearing that it must have been of great importance to the boy.

Neville had written about Luna, who would be staying with him and his Grandmother until school resumed; presuming that Hogwarts could be fixed and reopened in time for the September semester to commence. Besides his Grandmother, Neville hadn't been left with anyone to lose in the war. Whereas Luna, like so many others, had lost the only family she had left. The poor girl could not bear the thought of going home to an empty house, and Neville assumed it would be unlikely that the Ravenclaw would want to return to Ottery St Catchpole for a _very_ long time.

Ginny was worried about Luna. The girl was just another name to add to the long and growing list of people struggling to cope with the loss of a loved one. From what Neville had told her, Luna seemed to be acting like anything other than herself. Luna Lovegood was known to be characteristically cheerful and wise, but from Neville's remarks, it seems she barely spoke a word anymore.

Ginny was prompt in sending her response, consoling Neville as best she could via the post. She told him all the encouraging things she could think to write and informed him that she would be moving into Sirius' house with the trio. She explained that should he need to contact any of them, all communication would need to be directed through the Weasley Matriarch.

While Voldemort was dead as can be, a number of his followers were still in hiding across the country. A _number_ that was much larger than the Ministry would have prefered to be dealing with, considering its current state of discord. Shackelbolt had already begun work in weeding out undeniably corrupt officials who held a place in Government, and any who had connections to any Death Eaters whatsoever were under critical review. 

When Remus had taken a brief respite from waiting at St Mungo's for any change in his wife's comatose condition (while his newborn was in the care of his mother-in-law), he had sat down with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny and had warned them of the severity that still lied ahead of them. 

_Just because the Death Eaters have no leader now, does not mean that they had given up._ Splinter groups, in Remus's mind, seemed to be a major cause for concern.

Sirius had shared a similar viewpoint. _You can expect there to be more attacks. They'll be reckless; there's no denying that, but they will be ruthless and will remain a constant danger to all of you until the Ministry gets a handle on the situation._

And so, the ancestral Black family home was to remain a safe house out of current necessity; its location to remain a tight-lipped secret, so neither Ginny nor Hermione could tell Neville where they would be. Ginny could offer him nothing more than a promise that she would come to visit him and Luna, just as soon as she could. 

Hermione shared her sentiments and penned a letter of her own to Neville, assuring him that once the move was complete that they would all go out to dinner - somewhere in Muggle London far away from all the ruined buildings of Diagon Alley. Somewhere there would be no risk of Death Eaters or snatchers stealing them away into the shadows.

Upon arriving once again at Sirius' house on Grimmauld Place, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny hastened to busy themselves with moving their belongings into their allocated rooms. Their excitement was far from fabricated, but Hermione knew Harry and Ron were quick to do anything that would keep their minds from dwelling on thoughts that would cause them pain. Keeping busy was, for the most part, an act to distract themselves.

Both Hermione and Ginny had opted to share their old room on the first floor, playing it off to Sirius and the boys as needing to have some quality 'girl time' together before school resumed. Ginny had further chimed in that it was necessary to make up for the fact that the pair had never shared a dorm room and that seemed to be as good enough reasoning as the boys required.

Ron and Harry had agreed that they would be sharing a room themselves on the second floor, a mere flight of stairs away from the girls should either pair be needing the other. There was an unspoken acknowledgement that nobody wanted to be alone considering all that has happened. As children scarred from war, it would be a long road ahead before any of them eased up on survival strategies. Hermione seriously doubted that she would ever be able to unlearn the lesson ingrained in her memory to always maintain 'constant vigilance'.

By the sheer number of trunks piled high in stacks on the first-floor landing at Grimmauld place, Hermione believed it safe to presume that Ginny had brought everything she had ever owned with her to Sirius' house. Hermione wondered very briefly how Molly was handling it that her two youngest children had seemingly moved out permanently.

Though it was common knowledge that the Weasleys all adored Harry, Hermione allowed herself to picture Molly Weasley sitting in her abnormally quiet living room and good-naturedly cursing the boy for stealing away her kids.

"Hey, 'Mione? I think these feather-light charms are beginning to wear off," Ginny breathed as she resorted to an attempt to try and drag the smallest trunk towards the door of her and Hermione's shared room. "Can you cast another one so I can get all this crap inside and _finally_ get some shut-eye?"

Hermione scoffed but silently complied with the request by flicking her wand over the trunk in Ginny's tight grip. Immediately her friend had no issue using the handle to pick up the luggage entirely off the floor and begin to cart it into their room.

12 Grimmauld Place was an expansive townhouse with four floors. There were more magically expanded rooms in the building than Hermione could count the number of times that Harry had broken his glasses over the years. But, the townhouse was still a mess having been neglected for years by Kreacher before Sirius escaped Azkaban.

Hermione had vowed to Sirius upon his offering to take her in that she would earn her keep and help out with the remodelling. He had laughed goodnaturedly and quickly agreed to the offer but only now after being back in the building did she honestly remember how big a task lay ahead of her.

She settled her mind on cleaning what she could, knowing full well that Sirius would get a kick out of watching her _try._

As the last of Ginny's self-confessed 'crap' was thrown deftly through the door, the redhead complained that having to move all her belongings was the most challenging thing she had had to do to date. Hermione caught herself before joking that getting Harry or Ron to pack up the campsite while on the run was in no way, comparatively any easier.

_I can't say that, not to her_ . Even if Ginny thought her joke was funny, it would have been far too soon to make light of what had been such a terrible time for all of them. Gin was still very much upset at having been left behind.

The sharp _snap_ of apparition somewhere on the ground floor was enough to draw her out of her head as both girls instinctively had their wands in hand within an instant. They each began lowering their weapon when they heard Sirius downstairs crowing a friendly welcome in greeting to whoever had just arrived.

Hermione was not a nosey person by nature. She prefered to think that her innate curiosity lent itself to higher academic pursuits; she had a considerable interest in the news and kept her Daily Prophet subscription for the sole purpose of keeping current with the events of the Wizarding world. She heartily detested the plebian gossip that Skeeter was peddling in her column that Hermione had aptly nicknamed her S _candal Sheet._

So while Hermione would hex anyone who called her a nose or a snoop, she couldn't deny that an invaluable lesson she had learned from the war was that it always paid to be aware of what was going on. It was in this pursuit of knowledgeable information that she found herself very desperately wanting to know about the goings-on that was happening on the floor below them. 

She offered a glace at Ginny, who was grinning the same way she did when Fred and George sought to involve her in one of their schemes. Hermione knew that look all too well and allowed a smile to slip onto her own face as she flicked her wand over their feet and cast a silencing charm. So long as they were careful not to be seen when slipping down the staircase, their footsteps would be soundless, and the girls could spy on their houseguests without fear of being caught.

When some scuffling and yelling sounded just before they reached the bottom landing, Hermione grabbed hold of Ginny's sleeve to pause her. Hermione instantly recognised one painfully distinctive voice amongst the chatter.

"You both can fuck off and let go of me!"

_Shit._

Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin line. It was only their first night here, so why in Merlin's name did the universe hate her so much. Couldn't Molly have just brought him here _tomorrow_ so that she could get at least one night of peace before he arrived?

Apparently not.

"Hermione, Ginny, come on through Dears. It's rude not to say hello to visitors," Molly had craned her neck to spy her daughter and friend on the stairs (it must have been some parental instinct) and was waving both young witches into the room. She embraced them each in short succession and turned to place them both squarely in front of Shackelbolt so they could make their greetings to him as well.

They politely shook hands with the new Minister of Magic and offered him their congratulations on the position, as Sirius clapped the man on the back and walked past him. It was only then that Hermione peered around the Minister to see where Sirius was going. It seemed that the homeowner was more interested in the blond boy on the other side of the room who would be their new houseguest.

Hermione had already heard _his_ shouting and knew of Molly's plan to pack him away somewhere safe until his trial.

It was definitely Malfoy, that was for sure. He had silver handcuffs bound fast around his wrists, red rings marrimg his porcelain skin around the edges where the metal shackles dug into his flesh. There was an Auror flanking him on either side with wands holstered on their waists just within reach should either of the burly men be needing them. They each held him at his elbows, and from his grumbling, their grips had to have been tight. 

"Look what we have here," Sirius smiled as he opened his arms wide in gesturing to the teenager. Hermione wondered briefly if Malfoy had inherited his theatrics from the Black family, after all. 

In looking away from Sirius, she caught Malfoy's eye and noted that he had been staring at her, coldly since she had appeared. The boy sneered at her and Sirius chuckled proclaiming "Well you certainly are Cissy's boy." Draco turned to glare at him now instead. She took this brief opportunity to look at him better, taking in what she could of his appearance while he didn't have the chance to scowl at her. 

In a word, he looked downright _awful_. 

His usually platinum hair had seemingly dulled and hung loosely around his face, partially covering his eyes; his complexion had turned sallow, and he now looked more sickly than pale. The Ministry had to have been feeding him the past two days - it would have been illegal if they hadn't been - but from the way he looked, she wouldn't have been shocked if they had starved him.

And it had only been two days. He must have truly been raised on the finest of fine meals if two days off his regular diet had thrown his whole health into such disarray. _Or m_ _aybe it was just stress?_ She bemused. 

When Sirius waited from him to answer Malfoy offered up no reply, instead turning to one of his guards and insisting once again in unpolite words that they get their grubby hands off of him. The profanities got him nowhere as the Auror just ignored his request. Malfoy was growing more frustrated, and his speech was picking up its pace.

Molly cut him off in his rambling. "Draco, you're going to need to calm down, Dear."

Beside her, Hermione could hear Shacklebolt telling Ginny that they transported him this late in the evening so that nobody had advance notice of his removal from the DMLE watchhouse. He further explained that Sirius had adjusted the wards so that the boy had no way of apparating out of the house, even if he could figure out how to do it wandlessly.

_Great. So we're officially holed up with a Ferret in our midst._

In listening to Ginny's conversation, she had just missed the last of what Molly had said to Malfoy, but from the look on his face, Hermione could tell that he was not the least bit fond of whatever idea it was that she had proposed.

"I'm not hungry." He snapped.

"Dear, I think you would feel a lot better once we get some food into you." Molly badgered as she walked over and pinched his arm in a show that said _there isn't an ounce of fat on you_. Hermione found it equally odd and fascinating that Molly had taken to chastising him as though he were one of her own teenagers. 

I was not as though Hermione disagreed with Molly, though. Malfoy had always had a Seeker's build, ever since second year; but he had grown into it more as he aged. He was tall and lean, and she could tell that playing Quidditch had toned his muscles considerably, but Malfoy now looked like he was in desperate need of a meal.

"I don't _want_ any food. I said I'm not hungry. You can't make me eat anything!"

What was wrong with him? At first glance, Hermione couldn't discern _what_ _his problem_ _was_. From his odd ranting and fidgeting, he didn't seem exactly lucid, almost as though for the most part he was talking to himself. But she didn't put it past him to be acting this way simply because if he carried on like a petulant child, then he usually got what he wanted.

It was Kinglsey who ratted him out, much to Malfoy's evident displeasure, saying that the boy had scarcely eaten since having turned himself in. 

Molly whirled on him in shock. "That was yesterday morning! Six meals... You've allowed him to miss six meals."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. He had surprised Molly when he spoke with her the other day in such a civil fashion, the pristine example of pureblood manners, but as she said, that was days ago when he had the patience for these people, and although they now claimed to be helping him they were doing nothing other than grating on his nerves.

He saw fit to remind them all that he _was not hungry_.

Sirius directed Molly's attention back to Malfoy by pointing at the boy as he spoke, illustrating to her that he was quite satisfied with the teen's response. "As he's not hungry," Sirius began, using what Hermione could only assume was his newly cultivated 'parenting voice' "Then we shall send him to bed."

Molly glowered but did not wish to fault him further, not in front of Kingsley who she swore to that Sirius was more than competent enough to care for a house of young people. She was beginning to question her judgement.

"Apparently he hasn't slept either since being detained, not since before," it was clear to Hermione that Molly was referring to the final battle "so maybe Sirius, you could offer your young cousin a dreamless sleep potion." 

Her meaning was clear, by dosing Malfoy up she would be sparing him from his nightmares, the ones that everyone suffered when giving in to sleep after taking part in ending the war.

Sirius nodded and called on Kreacher who had the vial of purple liquid already clutched in his hand.

At the sight of the potion, Malfoy began jostling his Auror's violently and yelling in protest, shouting at them that he would be taking none of whatever poison it was that they had to offer him. He was absolutely pissed off, and Hermione was glad that she wasn't the one in the direct firing line as the Aurors tried to hold him down.

Molly was desperately trying to defuse the situation, ensuring Malfoy in no uncertain terms that he was safe here with these people and that nobody was trying to kill him in this household. But as the boy continued to yell and plead for his life between disjointed sentences, he flickered wildly from upset to furious, and there was nothing her mothering nature could do to calm him down.

This was not at all like Malfoy, and it unnerved her greatly.

Malfoy was rambling about this and that, having no idea what it was that he was saying but yelling it anyway hoping that Sirius and the vial in his hand would keep a good few feet away from him. As his protests encroached on areas centring more and more around the events of the war, Hermione quickly realised what was bound to happen.

"Malfoy, you need to shut up!"

He quietened then, giving her a funny look.

"If you say anything more while there's Auror here, you could get yourself into a whole other world of trouble. You can't be saying anything until you've spoken to your lawyer."

What would be the purpose of all Molly's help thus far if the boy bloody confessed to something stupid because he was hangry?

Malfoy looked extremely confused then, a far cry from his glaring at her only a moment ago. Something had shifted in his gaze, his expression set on puzzlement as though he only just noticed she was in the room. And then he did something even stranger and asked her "Granger, why are you in my house?"

She blinked. "Malfoy, I'm not?"

As she spoke, he seemed to be understanding her, but once she stopped talking, he simply couldn't comprehend her claims.

That was when he began yelling at the Aurors again, all but forgetting that she had just been speaking with him. 

Malfoy was now shouting for the Aurors to stop touching him. This was despite the fact that it was clear to everyone else in the room, those Aurors had already let go of him when he seemed to be able to speak calmly with Hermione. Ginny came forward to stand beside her and latched onto her arm in concern.

Malfoy was still yelling at them to _just let go_. 

Sirius and Molly were sharing glances while the two Aurors, even further away from Draco now, similarly looked at one another in confusion.

"Draco, sweetheart," Molly began slowly "They've let go of you, see?"

Hermione hadn't noticed it before, too busy gawping at his _stupid_ hair to bother focusing on his dumb face, but Malfoy had noticeable tinges of lilac smudged beneath his eyes. It made sense considering that Molly had already remarked that the boy hadn't slept since before the battle.

"He's having a tactile hallucination." When the Aurors did no more than stare at her blankly, Hermione huffed and ranted on. "What he thinks is happening to him isn't _actually_ happening right now. Similarly, he's confused about where he actually is so he's imagining somewhere else." 

Though everyone had been listening to what she said - nobody had done a thing to act upon her words.

"He's severely sleep-deprived." She deadpanned. "Malfoy needs to get some sleep, or his disorientation and hallucinations will get worse."

Kingsley made a motion in the direction of the Aurors who nodded. Hermione was not able to decipher or interpret this vague command that they instantly responded to. The two Aurors resumed their previous positions on either side of the young Malfoy heir and grabbed ahold of him again as he thrashed about. 

Molly began forcibly pouring the purple potion down his throat, apologising all the while and assuring him that everything would be a lot easier to understand come morning time. If they had petrified him instead, the blond would have struggled to swallow it and would likely have ended up choking on the liquid so there was no alternative way.

Hermione and Ginny watched on in fascination as their old school peer's head drooped and his eyes finally fluttered shut. Malfoy slumped in the Auror's grasp, careening downwards towards the floor before Sirius reached out from behind to catch his cousin under the arms, laying him down slowly onto the parquet floor of the entranceway.

Hermione was rather disappointed that Sirius didn't let Malfoy's bighead whack on the ground even a little bit during the landing. She would have paid a good deal of money to have seen that.

It took only a few minutes for the Aurors to cast a levitation charm on the unconscious prat - and soon he was being carried up the staircase. The Auror's followed after Sirius as he led the pair up and up, flight after flight. 

As she and Ginny watched from the bottom of the stairwell, Hermione soon realised that they were taking him straight to the top floor of the house.

_But there aren't any guest bedrooms on the fourth floor?_ She mulled it over quickly in her head, hoping to reach a conclusion before the party reached their destination. There were only two rooms on that whole floor of the house. _It was just Sirius' bedroom and the one that used to belong to-_

_Regulus Black._

**************

**5th May 1998**

**12 Grimmauld Place, Muggle London**

**12:30 pm**

"You _are_ aware that you cannot leave this residence without express prior permission, and that you will then be required to remain under constant supervision?"

It took Draco a moment to process what the Minister of Magic had just said to him. Even after a night of sleeping like the dead that left him waking up at noon the next day, he was still persistently exhausted. For an Order that professed themselves as an honourable group of good repute, was it really necessary for them to drug him out last night? Draco certainly didn't fucking think so.

"Sure." He conceded, but as he lifted his heavy head to look at the tall Wizard, Draco quickly garnered from the displeased expression on Shacklebolt's face that he would need a better response to appease him.

" _Yes._ " Draco drawled, narrowing his eyes.

"You are aware that at this point, nothing has been decided on your charges, and that your guilt or innocence will not be determined until your trial date?"

Focusing his gaze on the man's lone gold earing, Draco didn't bother to look him in the eye this time as he responded. 

" _Yes_."

"You are also aware that as this is an operating safe house, nobody can know that you are here, or that there is a _here_ to speak of? This means that you will be unable to contact your mother."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" He jerked round in his chair to lock eyes with the bushy-haired know it all. He had hoped that seeing her last night was only as a figment of his imagination or a nightmare he soon wished to forget. No such luck apparently.

Without a care in the world, she came sauntering into the dining room, intruding she knew, but with a plate of her lunch in hand. She was a resident here now, and she was well within her rights to sit down at the table to eat her meal. "Is that the only word you know?"

He glared. If he had his wand, he would have cursed her teeth right out of her head so she could never speak another word to him again.

"You're the Minister, Shacklebolt" he turned and gestured wildly at the girl sitting at the far end of the table "are you just going to allow _her_ to walk in on your meetings?"

Kingsley let out a sigh. This was obviously not the situation that he had wanted to be handling today.

"Miss Granger's fine," He gave a wave in her direction, unconcerned by her presence in the room. "She's a member of the Order, and this is where she lives. If anything we are _both_ guests in her home and should remember to act as such."

The stupid bint had the nerve to smirk at him.

He only had an unintelligible _whatever_ and a string of expletives to mumble under his breath in response.

"And you understand that while being detained here, you cannot use or have a wand in your possession at any point in time?"

"I don't even have a wand." He snapped. 

Draco had only been awake in this godforsaken house for half an hour - still stuck in the same clothes he had worn to the Ministry two days ago - but he was already sick and tired of this shit. He didn't actually want to be manhandled or babysat until the Wizengamot could decide whether or not to let him rot in Azkaban.

He certainly would put up one hell of a fight, wand or no wand, before he let them send him to that level of hell.

All he had asked was for Molly Weasley to get him a half-decent lawyer, and she'd gone and gotten the whole Potter Parade on board with her idea to keep him in one of their little safehouses until they could _reform_ him. 

Well, you know what? Draco Malfoy wasn't an idiot. 

He knew that he would have to be cooperative with the Ministry, and he had done so graciously thus far aside from some sarcastic comments during his initial interogation. He also knew that he would have to bide his time here in his Mother's estranged cousin's house with all three members of the Golden Trio and their wackjob Weaselette. 

Keeping him here was an unavoidable facet of Molly Weasley's plan to stop the Carrows or someone worse from finding and flaying him alive before he could be exonerated for his crimes. So though Draco abhorred the thought of having to live in this house of fools, it was _necessary._ For the time being.

He really should have been grateful that they had thought his life worth saving at all, but he presently had no mind to thank them for their pity.

So long as his Mother was allowed to remain at home until her trial, he didn't care that he was here. Shacklebolt had informed him that she had been sent home to the Mannor to be kept under guard until her hearing and that presently no one knew where his father Lucius had absconded to. _Coward._

Draco knew that he could happily lock himself away in the room that Sirius had stuffed him in last night until his trial. His mother would seemingly have to wait for it all out until she could 'face the music' herself. And then they would be fine.

He could wait. He knew he could, especially if the only alternative was prison or an untimely death at the hands of the Carrows. He would just have to allow the Order to help him, much as he loathed to admit that he desperately needed their help. He would put up with it all and then put it behind him.

That was his plan. He would stick to it without any deviations and be a free man in a few months time, washing away memories of his past and keeping a low profile until the Aurors actually did their jobs and caught all the dastardly criminals that had so far alluded them.

He would be fine. There wasn't anything to worry about except the fact that having to face the reality of living in a house with Hermione sodding Granger was like waking up in an utter fucking hellscape.


End file.
